Where is my apple?
by Itachi's little Weaselette
Summary: A glitch in the animus hurls Desmond back to the 1100s as his Italian ancestor, Ezio. What will happen when two ill-fated to meet men come together for a missing piece of Eden? Well you're about to find out. Set 2 years after Assassin's Creed. AUish. Bi curious. M/m with ch. 9 lemon.
1. Where am I?

M'kay, first time writing Assassin's Creed anything so I hope you enjoy. This has been edited only by me so shrug the mistakes off and tell me where they are later. :'D

Any who, this takes place 2 years give or take after you finish Assassin's Creed. Ezio's wearing his Helmschmied Drachen Armor- yes I put a man wearing heavy ass armor and mostly black clothing in the desert, thank-you-for-asking. Oh and the apple of Eden has gone missing for a reason I can't explain because I am making this shit up on the fly. :'D But enough of my babbling, go on and read friends and strangers.

Don't forget- flames are excepted, reviews would be lovely and I don't own anything other then this collection of words I call a fanfiction.

Thank you life for Ubisoft. ^^

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><p>"You ready to go?" Lucy spoke up.<p>

She was speaking to Desmond who had messaging a shoulder as they wandered away from the bed region of the hideout toward the animus 2.0. "Yeah, let's do this." He headed for the machine while his female partner veered off for her computer. Rebecca greeted him with the usual friendly slang she favored as he sat down and laid back into the animus.

Once situated and arm in its usual raised position, Desmond relaxed and let the procedure start as the animus took over his consciousness. Black lighted to white and he came to stand in the familiar world of white, white and code that was the animus loading screen. "Ok. We're going back in from where we left off." Rebecca's voice echoed and just as Desmond was about to set into the usual pace, the system started flaring red; code flying everywhere, "_What the hell_?"

"What's going on?" he demanded, was something wrong, something about subject 16? "_I'm not sure. We're having something happen like that memory inside a memory thing. The system's trying to access Ezio's memory but you're being pulled toward 1191 with Altaïr_!" The white and red world was beginning to rumble and shake,"H-hey Lucy~?" Desmond yelled with uneasy as he strained to keep balance. "_Get him out of there_!" said woman's voice echoed loudly.

"_I'm trying but the animus is_-" Rebecca was cut off as everything went black and as it did so did the stable floor and Desmond found himself falling- screaming, naturally.

The fall was terrifying and it hurt like a bitch in the landing, so much so, the modern history traveler was knocked clear of his consciousness. Needless to say he carried a splitting headache when he awoke.

The air was chilly on his skin, not much of it being exposed. Desmond opened his eyes and struggled off his belly to his knees to sit and observer his surrounding. He wasn't familiar with much but he could recognize it was in the middle of the night. The next task was checking for wounds and upon inspection he found he was certainly in a different body, "Ezio?" the heart throb voice that reverberated through his head as well as the air confirmed that the renaissance clothing he wore did indeed belong to his ancestor. "Okay, so I'm Ezio. Now… where the hell am I?"

He looked around more, fending off his minor concussion weakly. By the looks of things, he could tell this wasn't Ezio's normal settings. There were no cities with beautiful canals, no lush green country side just cold cliffs on either side of him.

Even though he was sure he was lost, the man felt as if he was somewhere familiar and so he struggled to his feet to further investigate his surrounding. Sore from his fall, he slowly dusted himself off and worked his way to the road from where his fall had ended him up in a hidden region behind a few scraggly bushes.

"Hmm…" the road stretched in both directions to his right and to his left. The right led deeper into the faintly moonlit canyon while the other led out to a more open area. Frowning, Desmond worked out between which way to travel and decided to move toward the darker enclosed trail. He strode for what felt like an hour but it certainly had only been fifteen minutes.

By this time he was coming around the last bend before his ears picked up on a familiar noise. Soft braying was coming up from up ahead; horses! If there were horses then he was close to a town or at least someone to question.

Steadying himself for a meeting or a confutation, the assassin cleared the bend and the trail opened up at once to a city, it's entrance partially walled closed by a wooden gate. The horses he'd heard around the corner were off to his right and tucked rather safely in a small alcove that double backed to match the trail he was leaving for the town entrance. Staring up at the entrance, he eyed the town for a good moment before it dawned on him where he was, "Masyaf!" he said nearly breathless.

The animus had certainly fucked up!

Ezio was _not_ supposed to be in the time of Altair!

He was so shocked at the realization of being stuck in the wrong time period in the wrong body that a hooded man was nearly upon him. He recognized the outfit at once to be one of the many assassins native to Syria. It was one of the guard that watched the entrance into the assassin's stronghold.

"You there! From where do you come?" the man asked as he came to a stop before the Italian assassin.

"I, uhm-" stumbling for words, Desmond decided for now speaking truthful lies would be best. So he straightened himself and put on his best face to better stand up to the guard,"Florence, from Italy. I've come far." The guard's partially hidden face showed signs of suspicion,"Florence Italy? You have a thick accent… I'll believe you for now. Those robes you wear," he motioned to Ezio's finely tailored outfit, "They are of a similar design to our order's, though… they are quite... attention drawing…" he stated, voice falling to a murmur as he muttered out the part of how flashy Ezio looked to the browns and pale yellows of Syria.

Desmond scoffed a bit, finding himself offended just as much as Ezio most likely would have,"I follow the Creed, it would make sense that we are similar." This seemed to startle and put the guard on edge,"The Creed?" he simply nodded to the guards surprised voice.

"Is there something I can help you with or-…" the assassin was stopped in his sentence of dismissal as the guard looked behind him and motioned his companion at the gate over quickly with a few gestures that didn't seem the friendliest. He was proven right as the two at once turned on him and made to seize him. Ezio was nimble on his feet still at the age of 23* and so he hopped backwards to avoid the incoming arms.

"What are you doing?" he snapped as Desmond at once shifted into Ezio's often preferred fighting stance. He unsheathed his blade upon the two sword wielding guards and eased back a few cautious steps.

"You are suspicious. Master Altair has ordered any and everyone of that nature to his chamber." Was the answer he received. The famous name froze the assassin in his tracks the moment the second guard lunged for him. The moment of hesitation worked wonderfully for the two pesky guards as Ezio's blade wielding hand was grabbed first and he was yanked forward. The two tag teamed the foreign assassin into a submissive hold with his hands shoved up close to his shoulder blades,"Jihad! Look at this! He has them all, no sacrifice!" the first guard was marveling over Ezio's five fingered hand. Jihad was just as amazed,"How is it you have escaped a sacrifice assassin- if you really are." He growled, questioning him fiercely.

"Our blades are of different times and place! W-we don't need to sacrifice a finger." Desmond stumbled out in a tinge of panic. He really wanted to stay on everyone's good side until this malfunction wore off. Unfortunately being captured by these two goons had set him up to meet with the one man Desmond was certain he should never come into contact with while he was in the animus' whacked up time stream. Certainly making contact with one of the ancestors he was suppose to be reliving right now would further damage the glitch or whatever was going on now.

"Master Altair will decide whether you speak truth or lies…" with a shove the two low ranking assassins walked Desmond up the long winding path through the city of Masyaf. He grunted at the force level they were using, his arms already going numb from this odd backward mummy crossing of his arms behind his back. Either assassin had a hand gripped on a crossed wrist and the free hand on Ezio's shoulder as they guided him through the archway into the brotherhood's encampment.

Desmond searched fruitlessly for a chance to escape on the dreaded walk to the assassin's guild. He dedicated himself to escape but as they were surrounded by more and more Syrian assassins the Italian was beginning to lose hope. But an opportunity offered itself and Desmond took it on the walkway leading up to the front of the guild's library entrance. He managed to rip free his left arm and drove forward. The element of surprise on his side, Desmond turned in Jihad's hold and lashed out at his face with the unsheathing hidden blade at his disposal. Jihad released and hopped away as expected and the Italian assassin fell into his fighting crouch and backed up as he further plotted his escape route.

Every assassin in the court yard was alert now and tensed for his next move. Desmond could only back up as he stalled for more time and just as he was to make his move for escape he was brought down by a hulking force on his shoulders.

Body slamming the ground harder then any fall in the animus had ever let him stay synched through brought ungodly amounts of pain. A weight was on his back and had surely broken something in his pelvic area as a knee crushed his lower back. Desmond was thankful to be wearing armor now as it felt like he had possibly broken a rib but the metal bent and absorbed some of the impact of his assailant.

A blade was carefully pointed into the back of his neck through his hood. The crushing weight on his back shifted and a strong voice growled in his ear,"Who are you and where is the apple?" The grand master assassin's greeting to Desmond was just as cold and vicious as his hidden blade.

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><p>So there's ch. 1 for you. Questions? Concerns? Bitchings?<p>

Review.

Lets hear them.

P.S. this story is straight as a circle~ for all those ladies and gentlemen that know the lingo for what is to come. Haha.


	2. Hello Altaïr

Here's chapter two watchers and friends. Who's up for some Ezio torture? Yay for interrogation. :'D

Don't forget- flames are excepted, reviews would be lovely and I don't own anything other then this collection of words I call a fanfiction.

Thank you life for Ubisoft. ^^

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><p>Listening to the creaking of the wooden floor, which Desmond was staring at now, from slow agile foot steps, was a torture in itself. The Italian assassin was feeling sweat collect at his brow as the master assassin of the late 1100s prowled a circle around his bound form. After such rough treatment Ezio had been restrained once more and dragged up the rest of the way into the fortress and tied into a chair on the second floor in front of the master's desk. His ropes had been tied nice and tight too leaving only small room for breathing, another torture he was sure.<p>

The sweat was not so much from the situation of trouble he was in as more from the close proximity of his ancestor. With how his body ached and throbbed still, Desmond was beginning to dread the thought he wasn't in the animus anymore. Regardless of a replay or actual ticking history, the modern assassin didn't want to know what a meeting with an ancestor would do to his current predicament.

"Still refuse to speak now?" Altaïr murmured in a deadly calm. Desmond proved this right with his continuing to eye the floor desperately. The Syrian slammed his four fingered fist down on Ezio's shoulder with a jarring force. Desmond grunted but only grit his jaw tightly closed. "Speak. What is it you mean by, 'We should never have met.'? You took the apple didn't you?" Altaïr growled against his hooded ear.

Desmond squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head letting the other assassin interpret it as he pleased. "Speak the truth if you do not have knowledge of it." Desmond quaked under Altaïr's fist from his tone.

"…I don't have it…" he said in just the tiniest mumble. The fist left him as the man absorbed the tiny reply. "Then answer me this; who are you?" Silence stretched after the request sounding question. Altaïr prowled once more with a deadly aura hanging about him again, "Everything points you to be an assassin. There's no order of the brotherhood in this 'Italy' though. Who are you strange assassin?" he demanded now, stopping in front of the man now to leer at him from under that white hood.

"…Let me go, I need to be going…" another weak response and it related little to Altaïr's demands. The grand master lunged forward and gripped one of the knobs of wood at the top of Ezio's binding chair and jerked him into a leaning position, "Going where?" another demand.

Desmond struggled to hide his face under the cover of his hood in the leaning position. "Talk!" the white robed assassin snapped, losing his patience to be mostly civilized. Altaïr could tell he would continue to get the silent treatment by how the man clenched his jaw and so decided to start the torture methods to get what he wanted.

Walking passed the chair away from his desk; the Syrian yanked the chair with him and drug it to a slamming stop against the railing of the second story inner balcony. Altaïr then leaned him back, grabbing a leg of the wooden chair to lay it up on the railing precariously, "Answer my questions, boy, or I won't hesitate to end your life now." Desmond stared up into the other assassin's eyes for a moment before whipping his head to the side and tensing up. His breathing picked up as a tingle of fear welled in his chest at the wobble of the chair on the railing from a sense of impending vertigo clawing at him.

Altaïr narrowed his eyes down at the man's face as he saw the fear for only a moment. Getting a good look into the face of his captive urged him to investigate the familiar features further. He dropped the leg and gravity brought the chair back to a standing position on the floor firmly before the Assassin's Creed symbol on the floor with a groan.

Reaching up an unscarred hand, Altaïr yanked the Italian's hood from his head causing Desmond to gasp at the forceful reveal. He ducked down more as Altaïr reached out and had to yank his chin up to look at his face with it's owner's eyes hidden behind his eyelids.

"You seem… familiar…" Shreds of uncertainty lingered in the master's tone as he looked on at Ezio.

"Impossible." The Italian grunted. Altaïr continued to man handle the other man's head as he looked him over and after a few minutes of fighting with the Italian an idea dawned on him, "You look like… me?" he seemed almost perplexed by the thought as he traced his own scar along his lip while his eyes drug down Ezio's. Desmond opened his eyes and stared up at Altaïr with a look that gave the white robed assassin a sense that this was true.

"No I don't." sure there were small differences since there couldn't be two of the same man in the world but the likeness of his captive to himself was disturbing.

"Your facial features mirror mine, who are you?" once again they were back to that question. And Desmond was not going to answer that. With his hood ripped from his head, Desmond could only look away and try to futilely cut their interaction to a minimum. Irritated and known well for his cloaked temper, the grand master assassin lashed out with a fist and promptly slugged his captive.

From the small crack that echoed in the bound man's skull, he could tell he'd ruined Ezio's jaw something nice as his captive made a groan of sheer pain. "You hide something, tell me now and let us be done with it." He stated promptly, blunt as ever as he held Ezio's chin high once more. Desmond could feel the wetness of collecting tears at the corners of his eyes as his jaw throbbed painfully in the man's grasp. Luckily Altaïr wasn't holding hard and so he wasn't struggling but he was certain if he fought, the pain would double.

Thoughts flew through the future assassin's mind as he clawed for a response that would get him closer to escape. The only non-painful way out seemed to be to lie. Desmond puffed softly as the throbbing ran down to a dull ache and he decided now he would risk lying to the grand master assassin of Masyaf.

"I didn' wanna to say this, it was more important I didn' meet you b-"

"Out with it." Altaïr grunted, feeling at once suspicious with the stalling.

"We're related." Not so much a lie and Desmond guessed he would keep to his half truths. There were subtle tones of disbelief in the other's tone as he repeated. "We are related…?" Desmond simply nodded, "My mission called me here; I knew our meeting would be nothin' but hell." With his act in full swing, Desmond smiled to seem just the bit friendly as Altaïr moved back to stand at a more reserved distance. "What were you called out here for?" the assassin could only guess Desmond has meant they were related through the brotherhood as he had watched his family's end.

Shifting uncomfortably, the Italian assassin grunted out, "I was told I would meet my informant once I got to Masyaf…" Altaïr seemed hostile once more in his tone as he clenched his fists, "So even this branch of the Creed where you come from knows of the apple's disappearance." He seemed quite angry to know this. "I guess I'm here to help then." Surely this would get him free, right?

Altaïr scowled from under his hooking hood at Ezio,"We will see." Maybe not...

"It is late." The Syrian remarked. Desmond could only glance up and out the window as he noticed the tell-tale signs of dawn coming on. "I still have much to do; you, we will see how true your story is, aid a few of the novices around Masyaf. Show me you are truly here to help and we will combine our efforts to search for the apple." With his tone seeming dismissive, Altaïr looked away from his captive to walk passed his desk and opens the window to the two guards watching the entrance to the Assassins guild's door. "Kazim, Rashid,enter and attend to our guest; return to your posts once finished." He called out.

Soft replies of, "Yes Mentor." Came from the first floor and shuffling steps echoed downstairs as both men came to release Ezio of his bindings. Desmond let out something of a relieved sigh but was sure he wasn't out of trouble yet, he did after all have to escape from here unnoticed. As the two men scaled the landing and came up behind him, they started at once on undoing the ropes binding Ezio to the chair. Altaïr seemed to have a side note to add as he looked the foreign assassin over, "Get him a change of clothes for if he desires to wear something… lighter." Desmond could only leer over at the assassin for his poor attempt at using a less insulting term for Ezio's clothes.

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><p>Oh ho, he's infiltrated the brotherhood guys. Of course he's still thinking of bailing.<p>

Haha, hope you all enjoyed chapter two now don't forget to review. ;')


	3. Observations

S'been awhile since last update. Well sorry to disappoint you all but here's more filler with plot line~! 8'D Hope you all enjoy.

Don't forget- flames are excepted, reviews would be lovely and I don't own anything other then this collection of words I call a fanfiction.

Thank you life for Ubisoft. ^^

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><p>Once he was released, Ezio stumbled his way after his two attendants wearily. The short night was wearing on him already after being jumped on and interrogated and his body could only take so much hell. Climbing the stairs to the forth floor of the guild's fortress was terrible and by the time the two found him a room to stay in for the moment, Desmond was ready to collapse on his borrowed bed and relax for a few hours. Rashid left them to find the change of clothes while Kazim investigated the room to make sure it would be suitable enough for their 'guest.' Desmond ignored him and made his way to the small mat and thumped to the ground on it with a soft groan. He said nothing as he lay against the wall and just relaxed, relieved to get a brake from his problems for a moment. Kazim chuckled a bit at the sheer relief he saw and left the room, assured now that Ezio couldn't be a threat.<p>

The weary assassin was fast asleep by the time Rashid came back around with some clothing in hand. "What took so long?" his companion asked from his leaned position on the door frame.

"Sorry, I had to go around to everyone, he's larger then most of us! This was all I could find that might fit." Entering the room, he dropped the folded tunic, shirt, pants and hood in a neat pile next to the bed before leaving.

"Does he always fall asleep like that?" the two shared a laugh at the slumbering assassin's position as they shut the door and returned to their posts for the end of their shifts.

A new guard was sent by mid morning to disturb Ezio's sleep but by the time he got there the man was already awake surprisingly enough. He had just finished redressing when the door opened; the smaller man seemed confused for a moment before he glanced at the pile of armor and clothing tossed aside for the moment.

"Ah, master Altaïr wishes to have you join him in the library." Desmond gave a nod and after a roll of his shoulders in the tight fitting shirt, set himself to follow his escort. He seemed to blend in well with his change of attire now. Half of the assassins around the fortress didn't even glance at him now as he followed downstairs toward the library. For the ones that did, half mistook Ezio for the current Mentor and stares after him in bewilderment. His robes mirrored Altair's in a white fashion though he lacked the smaller tails down to mid-thigh and his hood was a deep grey like most of the lower assassins wandering about.

Ezio took his time down the stairs as soreness ruled his body. Following the man out into the library and up the landing, Desmond could see a white hood at the desk on the second floor and decided to take the initiative toward the master assassin though he was easily left behind by the less wounded man once again leading the way, "Mentor." a greeting was called.

Altair looked up from his designs and stood from his desk as Ezio reached the top of the stairs. "You may go now." He said curtly to the man before Ezio's escort made his way back down stairs and out through the courtyard exit.

Once left alone the two men looked on at each other for a moment before Altaïr spoke up, "Last chance," Ezio cocked his head, "For what?" Desmond sure sounded cocky with that Italian accent backing him.

"Your name." the white robed man said bluntly.

"Oh…"

Desmond had nothing to say to that, he wasn't going to use either of the names he knew off the top of his head and making one up sure would alert the man in front of him. It had to be convincing but unrelative to him. The silence was beginning to stretch as the future assassin sifted through the countless names he had encountered through the animus. _'Shit, is there one to even choose?'_ Altaïr was noticeably growing impatient as he glared him down from behind his desk.

"Federico." He said after another moment of hesitation, "My name is Federico." He said in a much more sure tone.

Altaïr seemed pleased enough with the information though, "Strange name," Desmond huffed, "For a strange assassin." For a moment they shared a brief moment of amusement before Altaïr snapped back to serious.

"You haven't been the most trustworthy among us, Federico, now is your chance to prove you are our brother." Desmond could only supply a nod as the ancient assassin ghosted about his work space restlessly. "This mornings training session until noon is soon to start, why don't you get down there and show them a thing or two?" Cocking his head, Desmond smirked, "Is that an invitation?"

Altaïr turned to look at him and the stern look Ezio received was certainly not an invitation. Throwing his hands up in defense, he submitted to the task as it would get him closer to his poorly plotted escape route. "Alright, alright, I'm going." He turned away from the man and headed down stairs out and into the court yard.

Desmond would admit to admiring the entrance of the fortress before pitching a glance up after his watchful mentor. Of course Altaïr was keeping watch over head and Desmond abandoned his escape attempts for the time being as he sullenly set off for the training rink in the center of the courtyard. He fell into what he knew of Ezio's few sessions of lessons with his own recruits as he strode up on the small battle field. He could tell the novices apart from the rest of the guild easy by their lack of preparation. There were three trainees mulling about already, "You three are the trainees for this mornings session?" it wasn't much of a question but the Italian asked anyway.

He got three nods to his comment, "Who are you?" one even dared to ask. Ezio smirked, "Your target; you," he pointed out the meekest looking, "with me in the ring, you two stay and watch what I teach." The two young assassins left behind simply nodded again as their friend advanced into the ring with Ezio. Desmond needed only to throw out his hand before one of the more experienced assassins tossed a simple blade his way and it was caught.

Once he was deep enough into the circle, Ezio rounded on the young assassin and prompted the boy to draw his sword, "Show me the last skill you were taught." The fight was on then.

At first it was a simple scrimmage where sword clashed against sword but the boy soon jumped back and took a more defensive stance. Desmond took this as a sign for him to be the attacker and allow the younger to show his stuff. He moved in quick with a sharp frontal strike. The easy predictability of the strike was reflected in his current student's eyes as their blades met.

This time though the boy was swift, he shrugged Ezio's sword off his with a quick upward movement of the hilt and slammed a knee into the Italian's lower chest in his moment of off balance. "Oof!"

Landing on his knees and one hand, Desmond puffed from the blow but had to hand it to the boy for his effective counterattack. "Good, good. I know what is next then."

He picked himself up from the ground and dusted himself off. He put the sword away in the sheath at his side; finally filled now before glancing around the rink. "Knives- get him some." The men watching were a bit slow to the command but soon enough, a belt of five were tossed into the rink at Ezio's current trainee's feet. Desmond calmly waited for the boy to sheath his blade and pick up the belt, "These are tiny, how will they ever be of use?"

Desmond smirked beneath his hood; this one really was a novice. "Think of them as your way of eliminating enemies from a distance. They also do well to stun attackers for your escape." Though his student nodded, Desmond was sure he still didn't understand.

"Here, come with me. Let's test your aim." He turned away from the boy and walked to the railing of the rink and hopped over it. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the other was on his heels before continuing the short distance to the training dummy in the corner of the courtyard. They stood together at the gate before Desmond motioned the boy to enter the small space.

Once he was inside the narrow strip of wooden training field, Desmond pointed to the dummy at the end of the strip as he walked himself to the long side of the tiny rink and stood before the rail, "That's your target. Treat him as the enemy and kill him. I hope you have good aim- you only have five shots!" he said before laughing. He wasn't about to baby sit this one when he had two other students waiting in the wings and so turned to look back at the entrance of the round training rink.

The two older men were standing there in conversation now but one still had an eye on him to which he beckoned them over with a waved hand. Patting the shoulder of the other, the two made their way over to Ezio and stopped, "Tell me what you were last working on."

"Mahfuz is more advanced then I, but I recently learned to break my foe's holds." Desmond glanced at Mahfuz expectantly, "I was learning the art of dodging my enemies." Desmond had to go over his ranks from Altaïr's animus trip before he finally spoke to the two with a smile. "Good, those are both incredibly important skills, go and practice these to perfection in that rink, I think this one," the foreign assassin poked a thumb carelessly toward the novice, "needs more work then you two by the lack of thunks I've heard." The two assassins smiled at the joke and nodded before turning away and walking off.

With the two trained men distracted, Desmond turned back to find only one knife in the dummy and it was poorly buried in its side. "Your aim is off." He couldn't help but be blunt as he went to fetch the small blades.

A bell sounded before Desmond knew it and suddenly it was noon and he took a glance up to the window of the library. A white robed figure was still watching him like a hawk and upon being spotted waved him in call to see him. With the silent order given, Desmond turned back to the assassins working hard around him and called the three to a halt for the day so they could rest.

Truthfully Desmond was ready to rest now as well. The sun was torture beating down on him and he would be lying to say his clothes weren't glued to him. Carrying himself back up to the second floor in a slow trudge, Desmond arrived before his ancestor again after several minutes.

Altaïr seemed to hold him in higher respects but even higher suspicion, "You _certainly know_ what it is to teach another." Smiling and giving a shrug, Desmond shifted but otherwise said nothing to further agitate the elder. "I would like you to take care of something for us now that you have shown you are trustworthy enough."

The Italian shifted forward a bit, "What you want me to do?" Altaïr regarded the man silently for a moment, "A man in Damascus, he is under Templar influence and is causing trouble in the city for us. Go there, find him and learn anything useful about a man named Thabit before you end him. Ghanim will ride with you to Damascus and show you the bureau." Desmond simply stood there in a small sense of shock.

Altaïr was really sending him out on an assassination!

He'd never actually done one in person ever before, well, this still wasn't in person but it certain felt more real with the glitch.

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><p>Aww, look guys, Desmond's gonna kill somebody. 8'D Clap for him. All of you.<p>

Good news all, I've written the end of the fic already! No I didn't write everything from point A to B, sillies. Now I just need to fill in the middle and I'm done. c: And if not I'll just time skip, be incredibly vague of the goings ons and give out yaoi to end the fic. Seriously though... this getting most of the facts right are ha~rd. = =;;

P. S. I love you~ c:


	4. Damascus

Ok so yeah sorry about that guys. Kinda lost the file for this chapter then my creativity for this story went on vaca and left me high and dry but as you can see I found the file and you now have another chapter! Thank you people that review it's so nice to hear your opinions :) So yeah enjoy the new chapter~

Don't forget- flames are excepted, reviews would be lovely and I don't own anything other then this collection of words I call a fanfiction.

Thank you life for Ubisoft. ^^

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><p>The preparation for the ride to Damascus was quickly done and by mid-afternoon Ghanim was herding the foreign assassin out into the height of the heat.<p>

Desmond was already anxious for the task set upon him but after the morning session in the heat he loathed the idea of riding a horse all the way to another city. The modern man couldn't understand how his escort could walk around in a long robe, fully covered and have such a thick head wrap on. The temperature was stifling enough in the thin robes he was wearing but he supposed let the desert people dress themselves.

The ride through the familiar chasm into the gated field beyond was mildly enjoyable but once they came to the fence that blocked every horse's path it was sunny and miserable again. With all the excitement going on Desmond had forgotten the wooden structure and glared it down, just another wonderful discomfort of the desert assassins. Ghanim was up and over the gate in a fairly graceful leap of his dappled brown mare and though reluctant for the lovely jolt of the landing, Desmond was right behind him on his borrowed nearly pure white stallion.

The ride through the kingdom was nerve gratingly slow as Ghanim didn't ride faster then a trot. Once they were give-or-take a forth of the way there, Desmond was so restless he finally rode close to Ghanim,"Could we please go _any_ faster?" the other man looked at him with a question in his eyes.

"You want to risk alerting all the patrols along the way?" Desmond scoffed, as Altaïr in the animus he had guiltlessly made guard patrols target practice for bowling with a horse.

"We're on horseback- they'll never catch up." While his escort couldn't argue with that he seemed to want to keep a very low profile.

"I'm gonna leave you behind at this rate." The Italian mused, prodding his horse into a quick trot.

"But sir you don't even know where you are going."

Oh, right, he _hadn't_ been here before.

"There's signs, I'd find my way there faster I'm sure." The looming fork in the road was a poor test for which direction Damascus was with a patrol camping out along one side of the splitting path.

"Alright, faster we shall go but you will be the one in trouble if we come into danger." Desmond laughed but was pleased to kick his horse into a thrilling gallop.

His three different generations of riding training showed wonderfully as Desmond fought not to take lead of the journey as they flew over the land to Damascus. Their ride to the city was cut gratefully shorter with the fleeing over the country side. The grey hooded assassin absolutely loved the ride as well no matter how tired all the muscles below his waist were now.

The wind through his hot clothing kept his misery levels fairly low and though the road had been anything but straight and smooth it hadn't been aggravatingly difficult either. Ghanim advised a short stop by the stream before entering the chasm to Damascus and Desmond agreed at once.

No amount of training in the animus or the bleeding effect could train a body from a land of water for the desert. They brought their horses to a stop and Ghanim slid from his saddle to join his mare in drinking from the cool waters of the light blue stream. Desmond dismounted with care, his muscles screamed with soreness from yesterday and the ride,"Ah… Fuck…"

As much as he would have liked to better hide the pain he did a poor job of it as he coaxed his white steed to the stream to bow his head and drink. Desmond was excited for a drink himself as he licked his cracked lips. Bending down, he cupped his hands in the water and quenched his thirst from the ride and sighed happily.

The water tasted like salt but it was wonderfully cool down his throat.

They sat in the shade of the trees for a short while before Ghanim got to his feet and waved for Desmond to remount. Once back on the horses, they wandered through the darkened trail leading to Damascus and upon a clearing, here Desmond once again came to see the full beauty of the city of Damascus.

Desmond slowed his stallion at the top most cliff of the zig-zag path downward and took in the grand sight,"Never thought I would actually get to be here…" he mumbled. Ghanim called him back from the daze and after a flustered trot to catch up they continued down the way to the city's guarded entrance. As they mingled with the small market, Ghanim stopped his horse,"I will have to leave you for now my friend, you will have to find your own way into Damascus but once inside find me by the canal to the right."

Giving a nod of understanding, the assassin watched his escort continue on without problem before turning his attention to the crowd.

First thing first, he walked his horse to a lone haystack and dismounted. Sore as before, he walked it off slowly and began his investigation of how to get inside.

In the animus there had been a citizen in need of help that offered scholars to get inside but Desmond wasn't so lucky to have anything of the sort to his disposal.

From his distant position he could see a few rafters over the heads of the guards and guessed that would be his ticket in, next problem was to get up there without pissing off the many guards dotting the entrance. "Ok Desmond, you can do this." The poor abandoned assassin prowled around the gate of Damascus for an hour and a half searching for a better way to get to the easy entrance and by then Desmond said fuck it and decided to force his way through.

Climbing the nearest stall to the rafters, he made to look like he was going for them with a dive that shot him over the four guards' heads. The fancy acrobatics sent the men into frenzy and once Desmond had rolled on to his feet he was off like a bolt of lightening. He didn't even look where he was going as he dashed into the street from the gate's tunnel alerting even more guards and remembering his escort was to the right shot off passed a man as said guard slashed for him. The near miss thrilled Desmond and he spotted a ladder and quickly set to climbing it.

This ladder led to a roof with another leading higher and he climbed it for all he was worth as well. The roof he was now on was domed and hard for footing but with a bit of extra work he was up and over it and found himself going for a leap across a gap in the second floor roofs of the buildings he was on.

"Sh-shit!" he caught the ledge and saved his face from injury but his body thumped the wall hard. He struggled to pull himself up and to his luck a ladder was right next to him so he could better recover. Back on his feet on the next roof he heard the calls of the angry guards behind him,"Gotta move, and find him later."

The roofs curved to the right with the outer wall of the city which brought the foreign assassin to a series of wooden and metal poles jutting from the wall. This looked dangerous as hell but he was gonna do it for once without the training wheels of the animus.

Pumping forward, the assassin tapped a foot down on the wooden pole firmly before shooting off to grab the higher metal pole. Desmond grit his teeth as his muscles scream with all this extra effort but soon he was swung to the next wooden pole and safely to the other side, give or take a bit of a stumble into the wall. He bounced off the wall with a throbbing arm and tried carefully to run over the scattered planks tied together in a makeshift path to the next roof. He could still hear the men giving chase and risked a glance over his shoulder. The canal was behind him now but he would be able to sneak back along this path soon he just needed to run and keep out of sight.

With this in mind he flashed off in a full out sprint, passing a rack of clothing and then rounded to the right with the wall. The path opened up a bit before the roofs ended in another gap, a plank bridge awaited him and he jumped on then off of it to the other side in a rather graceful stride. He flew passed a smoking chimney and bumbled into an on coming rack of clothing like earlier passed.

"Oh shit." Sure he was going to be seen, Desmond rolled back up and realized there were more wooden stepping stones before him. To his luck though his pursuers were distant sounding but he still set himself to trying to make the perilous jump. He pushed off and made the first pole without much trouble but the wall bent between the second and third pole leaving a problem for Desmond who had only jumped straight jumps before. He made the second with a great momentum and pushed off for the third but his footing was poor and he slipped down.

"Ffff-!" he grabbed the pole and nearly bit his tongue as his arms jarred in their sockets.

He hung there and panted not hearing a single guard and thanked god for not being caught. When he opened his eyes he noticed two people sitting on a bench below him,"Hey."

The two looked startled at his voice and looked up. There was no question of him as both got up and ran away screaming like he was trying to kill them. Cleared for the short drop, Desmond let go and rolled to almost standing and caught himself on the wall of the building.

"Ah, haha, shit that was dangerous." He laughed softly and panted.

His blood was aflame with adrenaline as he shook from standing still after such a rush. He turned and wobbled to the canal and held the railing wearily as his rush began to wear off,"Okay… Gotta find what's his face…" he mumbled and started off back toward where he came using the ground this time.

He passed a few women carrying pots above their heads and a few benches with people on them before his long trip back brought him to a bridge that linked him to the other side where he could see the entrance he broke into from. Upon further observation he spotted a familiar form on the other side of the canal standing next to a tree, this seemed to rejuvenate the weary assassin as he crossed the bridge and strode passed a hay cart and through the crowd to the man standing by the tree.

"Federico! Finally, you are here. I was beginning to worry they had caught you up there." Desmond rubbed the back of his head,"I had some trouble but I escaped them, let's go, that was a lot of excitement for me."

Ghanim laughed and patted his shoulder,"As you wish my friend, let us be off."And so the two entered the bustling city of Damascus.

With all the turns and side streets they went through, Desmond had to admit if he didn't have a mental map of where he was going he would have taken a good while to find the bureau. Soon enough though they rounded a corner and the wall fell away to a hidden ladder. Desmond knew at once where he was then and noticed Ghanim wasn't climbing the ladder behind him,"Safety and peace be upon you my friend."

So he was leaving him now,"On you as well Ghanim." The Italian called back before struggling to the top of the ladder.

Fatigue tugged at Ezio's heels as he swayed in his place on the roof, to his left the assassin's symbol was set in the stone of the roof and farther left was the garden looking entrance to the assassin's bureau,"Ugh, I need to work out more…" he groaned as he walked the few paces to the edge of the roof opening.

He crawled down and climbed down the wall, counting the slow aching drops from the ledge until he was safely on the fountain built into the wall of the bureau. With a grip on the wall, he stepped down from the fountain and looked longingly at the carpets and pillows in the dim light of late evening. He could rest soon though; first he had to speak to his informant.

Rounding the corner into the bureau, Desmond set his eyes on the man behind the counter but he didn't get to say anything before a familiar voice spouted greeting to him,"Welcome, welcome! I have been expecting you all day. Federico, was it? Nice to meet you." So cheery, so innocent- this had to be the Syrian Leonado Da Venci.

The thought bewildered Desmond a bit as he smiled and nodded,"It is good to meet you too, Altaïr told me you were the man to talk to around here?" the older man behind the counter laughed a bit,"That I am. Master Altaïr has set up a mission for you here in Damascus which, I thank you sir for coming, this man has been causing all kinds of hell here."

"What's been going on?" The rafik behind the counter pulled out a book and opened it on the counter.

"A man by the name of Thabit has been terrorizing any and all of our brothers that he comes across. Two of our men have gone missing in the passed few weeks leaving only him as suspect. He's quite dangerous. He knows just what to look for so be careful in your approach. I will leave you alone for now, go rest."

Desmond was almost excited to hear the call that he could relax until the morning. He turned and weaved over to the pillow pile and dropped gratefully on to his ass. Heaving a sigh, the weary assassin wiggled around a bit before propping himself up against the wall and looked out the opening in the ceiling to the last fading rays of sunlight on the clouds. Everything seemed to be peaceful enough and so Desmond settled in for the night guessing he would find time for a much needed meal later.

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><p>I must be such a nerd to have played AC in game to create the chase scene I described here but it's totally more believable that way! Desmond sure goes through hell, falling out of the sky, people landing on him, strenuous chases... I give him such a hard time :)<p>

Anyone else ever noticed the Damascus rafik has the same Voice actor as Leo? o_o I couldn't help but put that in there when I noticed with the replays. ^_^


	5. Mission accomplished?

Haven't given up yet. Thanks to those that reveiw, lets me know at least somebody takes interest in this damn thing I'm playing with xD And if any of you are still with me to the end of this fic? o ,o Holy crap your my hero!

Anyway, I don't own assassin's creed, it's characters, the time period or anything else other then the way in which I just typed all this nonsense!

Thank you life for UbiSoft ^^

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><p>A rocking sensation, this is what disrupted and startled the assassin from his sleep.<p>

Giving a jerk away from the hand that had a hold on him he was met with a sharp sting to the back of the head, "Auh…" scratching the back of his head, Desmond blearily opened his eyes to figure out what was going on. The rafik was standing over him with a fully amused look plastered on his face,"Finally! I thought you would never wake!"Desmond cocked a brow at him,"How long have I been out?"

The rafik's humor died on his features, "Its sunset already."

Alarm shot through the tanned male to hear this and he noticed above the man's head the sky was orange tinted. "Shit." He groaned and covered his eyes, then pinched the bridge of his nose as he rose to stand. "Thanks, I probably would have slept longer if you hadn't woken me." He muttered.

A smile returned to the other man's face,"This is the first time I have ever been in need of waking my visitors." At the man's words, embarrassment flushed over Ezio's features and Desmond attempted to ignore the jab.

Now standing, the assassin was hit with the full force of his lack of eating, his stomach roared and he coughed, knowing full well the other had probably heard it. "I'll get to work at once." As he was striding for the bureau's exit the rafik looked after him in question,"Where are you going?" he seemed utterly bewildered. Desmond cast a glance back,"I slept all day, gotta catch up."

The other just seemed to question him further,"But daylight has gone, there will be time tomorrow." Shaking his head, the assassin just continued to the wall and began his climb, "Never stopped me before!" as his Italian ancestor; Desmond had over taken many enemies in the cover of the night so why should he worry now?

Giving a sigh the rafik left the stubborn male to do as he wished and returned to his pottery. Scaling the wall with only minor difficulty, Desmond made his way over to the ladder and took it down into the darkening city. He set himself to food first then information.

Upon reaching roof top status, Desmond came to a standstill and stared out over the dimming city. The day was over, people were turning in for the night and his job was getting harder by the second. '_Hell, I'll hardly get any food let alone the info on this… tabit guy_?' Desmond sighed at the thought of a lost day. He still had some small chance to do something though and just as he set foot forward a sharp pain spread over his side.

He had hardly looked down at the source of his pain and confusion before the wave of nausea washed over him.

He had seen blood before, his own to boot, it was only a small knife no bigger than one of the throwing knives the Order used. His vision blurred by the second as he yanked the little weapon from his side, "Son of a-" the curse was left unfinished as he teetered over and slammed to the ground.

The knife had been poisoned.

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><p>Voices.<p>

Small snippets here and there.

The click of metal against metal.

The feel of water thrown on him.

These were what Desmond felt over some unknown course of time. When the blackout spells finally wore off and he was fully conscious, he took to knowing his surroundings.

Pretty drab; dirt floor, wooden walls, shackled to the wall.

Lovely.

With much protest from his body, Desmond set himself into a sitting position. His temple pounded from just sitting upright and he groaned. "How the fuck do I get myself into these messes?" he wondered idly, honestly hoping someone would tell him. It was probably no more than ten minutes of investigating his cell before the door to his left opened and a skinny man entered.

Seeing the half dressed assassin awake seemed to upset the man greatly as he dropped the bucket he had been carrying and quickly shuffled out, slamming the door as he went. Desmond stared at the door for a fleeting moment before gazing toward the bucket, water had been its consents and it was all going to waste on the greedy floor, which sucked up very last droplet.

"Damn…" as much as staring longingly at the wasted water entertained Desmond, the fact he wasn't going enjoy any of it made the man cough. The next hour was spent trying to wriggle free of his bindings. Mostly, it led to both wrists being rubbed raw but as the attempts wore on Desmond finally got a hand free no doubt from the building sweat's assistance. He decided he couldn't try any longer for the other hand as each movement stung like fire and he was on the verge of bleeding.

The bound man leaned back against the wall closest to him, ready to wait out more hours so to try again.

The door swinging open surprised him though and he quickly hid his free hand behind his back. "Finally awake are you?" the voice was arrogant and deep.

Desmond looked over at the man striding in from the door, "Like my little trick?" the tease made a frown tighten the Italian's lips, "No balls huh?" his captor wasted no time in planting his fist to Ezio's face.

"Fuck!" Desmond barked out.

Head pounding even more than before, he glared up at the shadowed figure hovering over him. Like most of the people of this time period, he was clothed from head to toe though Desmond noticed that the man wore a cowl more like the assassin's of this time, no doubt to mock his prey. "You aren't very bright." The blunt words deflated Desmond's will to fight a bit, "Standing on a roof. Out in the open…" the man leaned forward, close enough that whispering was audible, "An _easy_ target…" feeling his temper flare, Desmond jerked forward.

The other man easily pulled back and evaded the attempt at a head butt.

He punched Ezio again.

'_He's just toying with me._' Desmond grit his teeth at the thought.

This was probably that target he was supposed to kill, how embarrassing to be caught by his target first. "Hope you like my _hospitality_ assassin. There's a surprise for you at the end if you can keep me entertained." The man mused as he grabbed Ezio's shoulder and sat him up right from the sagging position he was assuming. "Hopefully it won't be another punch to the face…" the slight crack of a joke seemed to set his tormentor alight with laughter, "Hahaha, oh even better than that, boy." Desmond's eyebrow twitched, he was many things but '_boy'_ wasn't one of them anymore.

A small yelp escaped him at the kick he received, foolish of him to think the threat of violence was over. Thabit seemed to fully get off by the violent actions he completed. There was little talking done from that point on, just kicking, whipping and a desperate struggle on Desmond's part to dodge the attacks while hiding the secret that at least one of his two bound limbs was free.

When his tormentor finally showed signs of exhaustion, Desmond was curled on his side and panting from all the abuse. Shame swirled in every bead of sweat on his body knowing how many times he had cried out from the sharp jabs. Amazingly though, Thabit had shown no signs of noticing Desmond was only half bound and taking the beating only in search of a chance to lash back with certainty.

Desmond at first thought the man was simply going to walk away and leave him curled there as he watched him straighten up. Instead of turning and leaving, he dropped the belt he had used for the whipping and came forward, kneeling down and leaning over his bleeding and beaten captive. After the vicious lashing, Desmond's pants were shredded with many slashes opened up and down the pants legs and it was easy enough when Thabit grabbed and simply ripped them off.

There was nothing else underneath and Desmond gave a gasp and struggled further against the wall when he was left naked under his captor's gaze. "Good pet, you get to _live_-" somehow the tone and smile of which Thabit used didn't ease Desmond's worries as he noticed the man tugging at his own sagging pants line. "Not without disgrace though…" the anger behind those words made Desmond flinch, not as much as when Thabit grabbed his right knee and yanked his legs wide open and forced the beaten assassin on to his back.

'_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck- I am not going to be a prison bitch. I am NOT GOING TO BE A PRISON BITCH._'

The wailing of these silent words reflected as terror in Ezio's walnut colored irises.

The smug look on Thabit's face assured he wasn't expecting anything to go horribly wrong and that was when Desmond took his chance. His free hand struck out, like a coiled viper, and he jabbed his thumb into his soon-to-be rapist's eye and gorged.

"AAAUUUURGH!" the cry of sheer pain spurred Desmond up and in a matter of seconds he had wrapped the chain of his still shackled wrist around Thabit's throat and pulled hard. Screaming turned to sickening choking sounds. Desmond struggled atop Thabit as the man thrashed beneath him desperately, taking special care to keep his target grounded on his belly.

After no more than a struggle that lasted three minutes tops, Thabit's struggles wore out and he grew limp under the naked male. Still holding tight to the chain and listening to the wild thrum of his heart beat in his ears, Desmond reached down with his free hand and closed the dead man's' eyes, "Rest in peace…" shaking terribly, Desmond finally released his clenched arm and the chain went lax. He unwound it from the body below him and flopped off, leaning heavily against the wall.

"He tried to rape me."

Desmond stared at the other blank wall as he made this statement.

'_He tried to fucking_ rape _me_.'

The admission to the thought brought a wave of heat to his face and his eyes burned.

The urge to cry came suddenly but no sob came even as a single tear trailed Ezio's dirt covered cheek. Minutes passed as Desmond just sat there. He knew he should move, dress, escape- something but the beating and current state of shock left him motionless.

It seemed an age before he finally moved.

Turning his head, Desmond gazed down at the limp form next to him. It looked a sad sight. He made sure not to dwell and sat up, he wrangled the pants off the dead man still leaving the decency of some underwear left on his lower half. Sore, aching muscles protested every move Desmond made but he dressed and then searched every possibility he would investigate in search of a key.

The search came up dry leaving Desmond to curse, "Now how am I going to get out of this?" god knew how long he had until someone entered his cell and found Thabit had been killed.

Desmond shuddered at the thought of dying himself, "I'll cut it off if I have to…" there was no reassurance in his mumbled words as he got to work vigorously wringing his wrist and twisting it about in the metal ring binding him. Skin tore and blood welled but Desmond didn't stop until his hand slid free with a sickeningly wet pop!

The grotesque wound was leaking blood freely and after a few darting glances, Desmond reached for his shredded pants. He tore a strip off and daubed all but the freshest blood away then ripped a long strip and set to biding it before tying the tiny ends into a knot.

Fatigue he had never known clawed at his limbs when the wound was dressed.

Desmond couldn't rest yet though.

Glancing back at the body, Desmond's thoughts shifted back to when he had left the Order's fortress. He no longer had any of his supplies and it dawned on him that he had no feather.

A blurred memory of a long elegant feather tucked below a knife buried in his side floated back to Desmond.

The assassins of this time liked proof of death and Desmond was just now seeing his kill for once. Clean, bloodless (on his target's part) but thankfully near silent.

He had done it.

Desmond had actually managed to kill Thabit.

Head reeling from many things, Desmond tiredly reached for the remains of the pants he had been wearing earlier and tore what he could from it and looked at the body lying close by. "…" the thought crossed his mind to just dampen the cloth with his own blood and save effort but Desmond decided against it. There wasn't anything but blunt objects to use and the thought truly frustrated the weary assassin. He got smart though when he noticed the wall near the chain hooks was looking the worse for wear.

He reached forward; grabbing what looked like the looser of the two chains and yanked. The wood gave a groan but didn't give in any manner. Desmond tried twisting next '_Righty tighty… lefty loosey_…' despite feeling stupid at the thought it held true and a sharp enough screw-like bolt came free from the wall into his hand. The heavy piece of metal weighed in his hand as he looked at Thabit's dead form.

Biting his lip, Desmond staked it into the unmoving hand next to him and wrenched it free. Blood welled up slowly and Desmond took the chance to drag the dirty cloth over it.

The blood clung greedily to the fabric.

Desmond tucked the scrap in the hem-line of his current baggy pants before crawling over to the strap of leather lying a short distance away. Once his pants were secured from falling off his hips, Desmond looked back at the forgotten mass of metal then down at his wrists, "No blade…" he needed something to protect him in his weakened state and so grabbed the stake and chain. He rose then, stumbling to a point he nearly collapsed again.

"Great…" Shaking his head, Desmond forced himself to his feet and made his way to the door. He opened it carelessly and leaned heavily on the door frame as he looked out into the hall the room led out to. Luckily both to his left and his right the hallway was empty '_Which way Desmond, which way_?' the debate was short before he pushed off the door frame and headed down the hall to the left, the faint noise of what sounded like a crowd of people came from this way and he hoped it was the masses of the public.

Each step was torture.

Blinking led to further blurring of vision.

Upon reaching the end of the hall, Desmond came to a T-crossing.

Once again, left? Or right?

He looked this way and that, closing his eyes even to listen, the crowd was certainly sounding louder. When he opened his eyes the world was dimmed to shades darker than normal in undertones of blue. A golden trail enticed the assassin to follow the hall left once more and after blinking again and trudging forward, his sight returned to the blurring haze of browns and blacks.

This hall was shorter than the one he had first exited on to, three doors and he had reached the end of it. It turned right then, going forward the paces of a well sized room before ending in a door. A glorious wooden door with this lovely golden light seeping through it!

'_I sure hope I'm not dying_…' the slightly morbid thought urged Desmond forward until he reached the flimsy excuse for a door. There were plenty of holes in the wooden slats that Desmond took care this time to examine where this door would lead him to.

Upon peaking out he spotted a fairly lively street in strong day light.

He couldn't see much else.

Grabbing the edge of the door he pulled it open and shuffled forward. He didn't grab more than a handful of stares from people passing by(he had been smart enough to hide the bloodied spike from view.) and as he looked around he noticed he had exited on to a street near a street corner. A vendor's stall was set up off to his right, the robust man working it lively toward the crowd to draw them in.

Desmond willed himself into the nearest alley, he didn't doubt for a second the guy was related to the building he had just escaped from. Leaning heavily against the wall with his back, Desmond looked up blearily at the light line on the wall of the building opposite him. He at least was lucky to have day light on his side, he would have surely had more trouble if it had been sometime during the night. Resting for so long made it near impossible for Desmond to get his body moving again but he managed to stumble off the wall and down the alley, following it behind the build he had been staring at and then around another bend before his legs simply gave out.

He lay there for a moment, willing movement, but alas even his mind gave in and sleep claimed him.

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><p>Sorry for this chapter, it's been a total bitch to write, so many ways to take the story. Honestly kidnapping was not on my list of directions I was gonna take with this but- uhm- hey it all worked out... kinda... Desmond should find time to eat next chapter... o ,o;;;<p>

Hopefully I'll get through ch.6 faster and get this rolling again!

And for all those Desmond fans out there, you'll be happy to know after kidnapping, beating and attempting at rape I am finally done abusing that poor man. c:


	6. Back in the saddle

This chapter is filler. ._ . Writing it bored me to death but it has satisfied my OCD nature and moved the story onward!

It's 5am now and I'm tired so instead of waiting and primping this chapter I'm just going to post it now. I can always come back and fluff it out later so it looks less depressing to read!

Thank you life for UbiSoft ^^

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><p>When consciousness returned, Desmond produced a pain riddled moan.<p>

There was a gasp from somewhere, "You are not dead?" Desmond couldn't recognize the voice. He attempted to raise his face out of the dirt but it dropped to the ground like a stone after a second's struggle,"Na'yet…" His vision was dim and the world looked like a mess, his body wasn't responding much to him and thought was slow.

Some shuffling noise dissipated and Desmond lingered in consciousness for a short time longer before darkness welled up again.

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><p>He awoke the next time in a better situation it seemed.<p>

He was on a soft mat and comfortable blanket. He could _see _the ceiling.

Lolling his head off to the side he eyed the room.

Way better than the cell he had woken up in some hours ago. The place was made of the usual mix all the common houses were made of. There wasn't much room; it was a single room shack. His eyes then found a figure, seated across the room, a woman. She was doing something that had her turned away from him. His attempt at speech started a coughing fit and the woman shot upright and looked over at him.

"You are awake!" she rose from her seated position and quickly shuffled over to him.

A water basin lay nearby and from this she scooped a cup into and brought it up close to his face. Desmond swallowed hard, fighting off the coughing long enough to grab a couple of gulps of water. It mostly fixed the problem and he sighed as he relaxed fully again,"…Thanks." She only nodded and set the cup down. "How long?" She glanced up at him. The question didn't get an answer for several moments, "You have been unconscious for several hours since I found you this morning."

Desmond sighed again, if he could move fully he would place a hand on his face and drag it off. "Uhh…" he looked over at her again, "is there… anything for me to eat?" as if called, the battered assassin's belly gave a snarl.

She seemed to just stare at him for the question.

Desmond felt his face heating by the second before she got up and wandered away.

He had nothing better to do than watch her move around. She returned with something in her hand, she poured the rest of the cup of water over it and rubbed dirt away. It was a turnip or something. Desmond made no attempt to refuse the food and curled on to his side to munch on the given item. He had crunched through more than half of his turnip before clumsily stuttering out, "Thank you!" He couldn't see her face but from her eyes she looked thoroughly amused.

He didn't have to ask for more as when he had the last of the turnip stuffed in his face she wandered away to a different basket in the room and produced a small apple. Desmond demolished this too and almost ate the thing whole. It wasn't the greatest meal ever but Desmond was satisfied and his stomach clenched at the thought of more.

They said no more and Desmond settled in for more rest, glad to have grabbed something to eat in who knew how long.

Pain was the first thing Desmond noticed when he woke and he moved his injured wrist in an attempt to fix the pain.

"Aiiee- don't move!" Desmond froze and looked down at his wrist.

He had rolled back on to his back at some point and the woman was next to him redressing his right wrist. "S-sorry… Thank you… for all of this." She didn't look up from her work. Desmond believed she was content not to reply before she spoke, "What did you do to deserve this?" Desmond blinked and looked away. "…I was up on a roof…" she stared, just plain stared at him. "Then I got kidnapped, enslaved'r somethin'…" the more common place misfortune seemed to quell her curiosity. "You are lucky to have escaped then…" Desmond nodded and decided how ever long he had rested was enough. He needed to get back to that rafik.

He managed to a sitting position with only the use of his good arm and leaned on it, "What are you doing?" his care taker demanded. "I need to go…" he made to get up further but his sore muscles hardly moved him upward and the woman's hands came to rest on his shoulders. "You cannot go yet! You are still pale, bleeding as well!" She didn't need to struggle with him to lie back down. Desmond crumpled back into the bed and sighed, between his aching body and this mother hen he wasn't going anywhere. "I need to leave sooner though." He muttered. Looking down on her wounded guest, the woman made sure he wouldn't attempt to leave again before going to the stores of food.

She returned with a small gathering for a meal and offered half to him, "Why is it you need to go so quickly? Does you slaver look for you?" her voice heard a bit of concern for who Desmond couldn't tell.

"No, no. I was in the middle of something important… er… the opportunity has probably passed by now though…" Desmond watched his words carefully, while most people would probably support the assassins, he doubted everyone in Damascus would be willing to keep a wounded assassin. His answer had satisfied the woman though and while they ate silently and for the most part separate, Desmond couldn't help glancing at the woman. The next two days were spent on recovery and a stable relationship between him and his caretaker.

By the third morning, Desmond was feeling up to the trip he would have to make to the assassin's bureau. His wrist and body were looking a bit for the better as well so as he timed his leaving for when she slept, Desmond gave another whispered thanks before leaving into the street. Dawn was still maybe an hour from now but the pre-dawn light was enough to see by.

Sadly, Desmond had no idea where he was and he was in no condition to simply climb the nearest spire and look around.

There was hope yet, other than the building he had just exited all the others around were two-story. A balcony on some higher level of Damascus held up by a wooden beam stood in front of the wounded man. A kettle across the street lay unattended, no lively steam pouring from it just yet. A collection of baskets were to his immediate left. Wooden beams ranged over head as he glanced up, no doubt holding up the second story to the building across from the woman's home*. The street to his right offered empty vendor stalls while the street to the left curved around behind the stack of baskets. Desmond spotted a ladder to a roof on the higher level; maybe going left would help him get to it?

The trips through the animus as Altaïr reminded him though that all the cities had been confusing as fuck and there was no certainty. Going right might get him to that ladder faster. Reverse psychology in effect the assassin turned off to the right and started to walk. He passed the first stall on his right as he wandered down the street and glanced over as the street opened up to a balcony or something. Other than a bench there wasn't much of interest but across the away on some other street level with him at the moment, something clicked.

He looked up then, following the trunk of a tropical in appearance tree. Three wooden beams sticking out of a huge wall. Walking to the little bench, he noticed it was the huge wall that encompassed Damascus. "…Really?" Desmond looked over the edge of the wooden railing before him.

There was no road below; water flowed, dotted here and there by boats or a wooden pole. '_I got chased through here_!' Just knowing he had even slightly common ground here was great news. Now he just had to remember how he would get to the bureau. The well hidden building was tucked into the heart of the city and Desmond was on one of the far walls.

Walking away from the little dead end, Desmond returned to his trek down the road only remembering vaguely he would need to turn left and follow the road into the city soon. He glanced to the left shortly after the second merchant's stall but it was a dead end, he did notice though the chest and sheet under and on-ing '_Templar_…' that combo had always meant one of those templar goons were hanging around for some reason.

Good thing it stood empty for now.

The street forked ahead and as he stopped to look, the left offered a staircase and right just lead in a sharp hook around back the way he came. '_Not that way_…' He quickly turned and started up the stairs. They were a torture on his battered legs. He was given another fork at the top, both off to the left but one turning back to the way he was facing. The left option lead down more streets and had turning options aplenty, the right opened up into one of the many courtyards that held trade.

This was much like the one he had killed one of Altaïr's targets in.

The fountain here had nothing shading it though. Everything was foreign here but Desmond scanned the rooftop line and spotted a spire stuck high in the sky. He crossed the courtyard and took the left path nearby to follow this beacon. Striding passed an arch way he quickly turned back to the right and found himself already at that spire that had looked so far away.

"…"

Both left and right just looked confusing but he knew forward was where he needed to go.

The nearest path there was off to his left and after sliding by a corner with a bench parked next to it he came out into a path that split out in what could be three ways. Desmond gazed at the ladder in front of him resting against the wall of the building in front of him. After going up he wasn't keen on coming down, would he be able to get to the bureau without flinging himself across gaps between buildings?

Thabit was dead so being up there was a bit less risky. Desmond decided to risk it and took to the ladder.

Once he was on the roof, he looked left and right. Forward was certainly toward the heart of the city and to his relief this way was made up of mostly connecting roofs. It was short lived though as a gap opened before the wooden structure he stood on. He was not about to attempt to jump this. There were beams off to his right, he wasn't feeling very cat like though. The scaffolding to his left didn't offer much better, maybe a few more places for mistakes. It was the better of the two and so he stepped up to the mass of wood and took to crossing as carefully as he could. He wobbled toward the other side and bit his lip hard as he arched to keep balance.

All his muscles protested but he strode forward quickly and fell into a stance that kept him from falling over. Huffing, Desmond straightened up and glanced around. Now on a closer roof, the assassin could see what he hoped was the bureau's opening. "Ha, got the hang of this!" while he sounded optimistic, the only way over to it was those thin wooden beams or a couple small jumps with the help of a wooden isle among the thin beams.

'_Fuck_…'

No ladder down.

Going back would be annoying.

Desmond sucked in a deep breath and ran forward.

He jumped off the lip of the roof he was on and landed easily on the wooden structure. His legs nearly gave at the landing but he propelled forward still. One foot on the beam before him and the next foot landed on the roof before the assassin crumpled to the ground.

The Assassin's symbol was tiled in the roof he sat on proudly and as Desmond looked at it he couldn't help but mutter, "Thank _god_…" the roof entrance was closed since it was only just now turning light. Crawling over to the latch, he hooked his fingers in the mesh of the movable tile and tried to open it. It moved back enough to get an arm in but no more. Banging the 'door' several times didn't seem to help make it budge.

Desmond sat there then glaring sourly at the tiny opening he had no chance of fitting through. He leaned down then and shouted into the bureau,"Rafik! Rafik? Come here and open this!" nothing changed for several moments. The grouchy assassin heard a door shut before finally catching sight of a man below the mesh of wooden sticks. "Leave urchin! You have no business here!" Desmond pursed his lips tightly; no wonder the rafik didn't react to him well.

He wasn't dressed in his assassin's robes.

'_Now how am I gonna prove myself_?' He didn't have much time to think. The scrap of cloth at his waist! He quickly looked down, checking his pants. It had shifted but was safely still in his possession. He dangled it through the wooden mesh; the browned rag wasn't much of a sight.

"Thabit- he's dead."

The rafik seemed unphased,"Yes, I know they found him dead a-" the man seemed to think on that information now. "You are that odd one Altaïr sent?" Desmond's eyebrow twitched at the comment, "Yes."

Now that the man knew who he was, he stepped forward and wrenched the stick free from the metal bars the tile that opened and closed the bureau slid on. Desmond quickly flung the wooden tile out of his way and then stared down into the bureau. "Well? Hurry up!" the rafik snapped at his lack of entering. Desmond lingered on the edge of the roof, jumping was not an option. He rolled over on to his knees and took his dear sweet time getting into the building.

Once off the wall, the rafik used his stick to slam the bureau's entrance shut again and then lodged it in the metal again as before. He then turned to look at the weary assassin flopped all over the cushions. "What happened to your clothes?" it wasn't much of a question. Desmond sighed and rolled over to face the man. "Thabit found me first." The rafik took that in and said nothing else as he walked away. Desmond wouldn't doubt the man thought he was a complete idiot. He decided he didn't care as he lay there, though his body ached his mind was fully alert, there would be no sleeping for a while yet. To his surprise the rafik came back into the room with a couple of things.

He threw the shirt on Desmond who made no attempt to put it on and the other two items he dropped on the rug in front of Ezio's nose. "Thought you had died. You have been missing for a week and a day now." Desmond started at this information, he'd been gone that long- wait he'd _only_ been gone that long?

Munching on the fruit offered, Desmond looked at the man standing nearby, "Sorry, didn't expect my approach would be by kidnapping." The rafik smiled a bit at this, "Certainly a unique method!" Desmond smiled a bit, "Ha, yeah, painful though." A bit of sympathy perched on the other man's face. "Explains the cuts and bruises." Desmond shrugged. "Got the job done. Other than being a psychopath, Thabit didn't have anything important to say." The rafik lost his smile and nodded. "When you are able, get back to Master Altaïr…" as the man turned away and left the room Desmond caught a small mutter that sounded something like, "This isn't good." While he had no idea what it pertained to, Desmond was sure what he brought back wasn't the information they had hoped for.

After relaxing there on the floor for a short while, Desmond threw the shirt on feeling it squeeze tightly on Ezio's large stature. He tried to limit movement to if need be and as the sun began to filter into the room from over head Desmond nodded off.

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><p>*The woman doesn't actually have ownership of the housebuilding since her husband's not in the picture just using the terms loosely here.

Ok, so, it sucked, I won't expect reviews over flames but I'll stay set on the next chapter! And as Alty gets his screen time back in this story means a trace of yaoi in up next. ;)


	7. All over him

Three chapters in three days. I don't think I've ever had this much time to sit down and just _write. _Feels awesome! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter, Desmond's getting into mischief again but at least it's the lol kind.

Thank you life for UbiSoft ^^

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><p>Desmond made sure to wear out his welcome in the bureau of Damascus over the course of nearly a week. He did rarely anything, getting up at least once each day to stretch and pace between the spaces of the two rooms. When running and jumping was the only painful movements he avoided, Desmond deemed he was ready to head out and get back to Masyaf. He had timed his leaving with that of a messenger and otherwise having nothing to speak to each other about Desmond got an easy leave of the city.<p>

They separated then, Desmond off to find a horse while the other off to some farther off city. The horse the modern assassin found first was off alone, tied to a pole next to a bale of hay spilling all over the ground. As he came up the horse turned its head to eye him with a great round orb. A soft snort and calm demeanor had the man placing a hand on the long expanse of the horse's forehead. "Give me a ride girl?" Desmond murmured with a smile. The mare gave a soft grunt but didn't start when the assassin climbed into the saddled on her back after untying the reigns. He pulled them and turned her away from the hay and set her on the road out of the city.

He let the horse set their pace until they were far out into the 'kingdom' before snapping the reigns and setting a swift pace.

A couple days later found Desmond loping in on the same horse up to the 'stables' out in front of Masyaf. He hopped off and let her stride up to the trough of water "Good girl." With his mood high he entered the town and scaled it to the fortress.

He wasn't stopped or questioned this time, over the course of his week with the rafik the man had acquired robes for Ezio to dawn again so he fit in perfectly as he entered the library. The two men guarding the exit out into the garden eyed him but as he turned to scale the stairs toward the grand master's study they said nothing. On the small landing before gaining level with the study, Desmond glanced up to see if the man was even there.

No one was in sight, but he couldn't see the desk from here.

Turning to the guards of the garden he asked casually, "Is Master Altaïr around?" The closer of the two acknowledged him. "He is coming down shortly from what I've heard." Desmond nodded.

Out of curiosity, Desmond had wandered to the shelves and started picking at them until he found some kind of map. He was deep into the fine lines and markings that he didn't notice the man hanging about behind him. "You are interested in the ottoman empire?" Desmond straightened suddenly at the voice and shut the map quickly before glancing over his shoulder,"Er, kinda, that's what this is of?" Altaïr nodded.

Desmond rolled the article back into a pretty scroll and placed it neatly on the shelf. "Where did you disappear to?" Desmond bit his lip, which probably looked bad on his mission. "I was having a bit of trouble…" Altaïr started to wander and Desmond made after him, "The rafik told me… Kidnapped?" the last word held a tiny bit of amusement. "Yeah…" Desmond mumbled, "But I got Thabit! …what was I supposed to learn other than he was bat-shit crazy?" By now they were standing upstairs near the desk.

Altaïr stared at him, "You learned nothing? You just killed him?"

Desmond stared back,"Er, he gave me the full slave treatment… my escaping was him getting strangled…" Altaïr shook his head.

"I shouldn't have sent you…"

Sighing, he turned away, "No more leads…"

Desmond watched as the man mulled about in a worried haze. '_What did Thabit know?_' Desmond had to ask himself. "What was I supposed to get out of him?" The question stopped the other's pacing about. He looked over slowly, "Possibly the location of where the Apple of Eden went to!" controlled anger laced his words.

Desmond blinked, looking down at the floor meekly,"Oh…" Letting out a sigh to collect himself the grand master looked away toward the window, "You may go." The calm dismissal drew Desmond's gaze back to the man behind the desk. "Yes mentor…" before Desmond had even moved Altaïr was on the move. He passed him and briskly headed down the stairs. Desmond wondered what he was going to do with himself as he walked after the agitated man.

"Wh-!" Altair stopped on the short landing before going down to the first level and glanced back.

A full grown man was tripping right on to him.

He gave a small startled noise but acted quickly and gracefully as Ezio came bumbling forward into him. The grand master's arm reached out instinctively to wrap around his waist in support and they both back stepped until Altaïr's back hit the wall painfully.

All eyes darted to the scene.

Desmond froze where he was, face planted against Altaïr's clavicle.

Desmond could hear the man's heart fluttering, the fall triggering adrenaline no doubt. '_He's warm_…'

Lifting his head off Altaïr, Desmond straightened up and they shared a long look.

The arm around his waist was removed and replanted on Ezio's shoulder.

In a matter of seconds the electric moment was gone and Altaïr shoved the other man to arm's length. "Watch where you are going." His voice was stern.

Desmond stepped back from the harsh shove and nodded. Free to move again, Altaïr picked himself off the wall and descended the stairs, making all eyes quickly scamper back to previous activities. Desmond stared after the other man, shoulder still throbbing from the shove.

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><p>Desmond was not called to the grand master's study again in the days that came after.<p>

He took to investigating around; often getting lost for several hours until he found someone in the area he had gotten lost in. On the second day of trouble making Altaïr stopped him in the library and asked if he would be interested in training the novices. Desmond could tell it was to keep him in line and from poking around further and so agreed.

He trained the same three young men again until the week was out before Altaïr finally called him up to his study. Desmond stood there before the grand master's desk as the man himself was tending a pigeon for a trip toward Acre.

"They're doing well." Desmond spoke.

Once the bird had flew from the window, Altaïr turned back to Desmond. "Good. You work well with them." A small silence was shared between them before Altaïr spoke again, "You did not say how long you were staying?" the somewhat questioning tone prompted Desmond to answer.

"Ah… uhm, well… I don't leave until my mission is complete here… And if I'm here to help you find the apple, then it might be a while."

There was more silence.

"Consider staying then? You're extra knowledge is helpful in the fighting ring." Desmond gawked a bit, truly surprised the other wanted him around. "You want me to stay?" Altaïr didn't meet his eye, "If you can."

Scratching the back of his head, Desmond looked around,"Er, I have no way of contacting my brother's from here… but… until the apple is back I'll think about it." The white robed man nodded, "Good."

Another silence.

Desmond wondered if he should start walking but there had been no dismissal yet. "You may go." Nodding, the modern assassin turned away before a thought popped up in his head.

He turned back; Altaïr had taken a seat at his desk and was leaning his head into his hand. His shoulders were tense and he looked to be under a good deal of stress. '_Looks like he needs a vacation_…' Ezio's fingers twitched as a thought came to Desmond. It took him swiftly back to a week ago when he had run into Altaïr. '_Ha. Finding every excuse to get my hands on him now_?'

"Altaïr…"

The named male tensed, only now realizing Desmond had not left. He lifted his head from his hand and looked at Desmond. "You're looking pretty stressed. Want a massage?" Altaïr gave a small snort, "A massage?" Desmond raised his hands and wiggled his fingers, "Magic fingers~" A smile perked Altaïr's scarred lips.

"Fine."

Just having the other say yes was amazing. '_So… let's not hurt the grand master Desmond_…' he mumbled to himself.

Desmond was not a massage therapist.

"Got a place to lie down?" Desmond inquired when Altaïr just sat there looking at him.

The older man lost his small smile, "Not in particular down here." Desmond shifted his weight to mostly on his right leg and crossed his arms, "Upstairs then?" Leering at the other man, Altaïr shook his head. "You aren't going up there."

'_Damn'_ Desmond puffed, and he was looking forward to poking around Altaïr's room way up in the top of the fortress. "The garden then?" soft grass, pretty women, it would be a nice place to relax. Altaïr seemed to consider this option;"Alright…" he sounded so into the idea. "Meet you out there then." Desmond strode off, hands already clammy at the thought of what he was about to try.

Though he was no expert, Desmond knew massages usually included the use of oils. Once he had stepped out into the garden Desmond waved over the nearest woman lingering about. A question lay in her eyes as she approached and he smiled, "Do you have any oils to use?" One of the woman's eyebrows lifted but she nodded, "May I?" She nodded again and wandered away.

Desmond took this time to unclasp the bracer on his arm and peel the gloves off his arms.

He tossed them to the ground in the grass as he strode out into the middle of the garden. He didn't have to wait long before Altaïr joined him. The belts and sash he usually worn had been discarded but otherwise he was still wearing everything else. Desmond turned and locked eyes with Altaïr as he came up,"Haha, you can't keep your shirt for this."

The Syrian cocked his head at this news then watched as a woman came up to Desmond and handed him a small flask. Seeing the point now, Altaïr reached up and pulled his cowl up and over his head. He let it drop to the ground and then removed his gloves and bracer just as Desmond had done. His tunic was next, sliding over his head in one smooth motion and thrown down on the growing pile of clothing. Finally he tossed his shirt aside and stood half naked in the center of the garden.

All the women were eyeing him now, chattering amongst themselves as to why he was removing his clothing. Desmond watched his ancestor's every move as he took his time to remove the clothing. Once he stood there waiting on him, Desmond snapped from his thoughts and sat down. He pat the grass next to him and it was a moment before Altaïr joined him, lying on the grass on his stomach. Crossing his arms, Altaïr laid his head on them and visibly relaxed. Desmond raked his eyes over the expanse spread out before him. The other's tan skin looked wonderful, nicks and slashes of old scars dotted him here and there but Desmond supposed they just added to his character.

There was no extra amount of fat in sight on the body he was admiring.

"Federico…" there was a touch of ire in Altaïr's tone making Desmond realize he had been idling for too long.

Moving forward, Desmond settled next to the other man's side and then opened the oil flask on to his hand. Once enough had drizzled out, Desmond capped the flask again and rubbed his hand over and over. Looking down at the offered back, Desmond stared a moment more '_Don't hurt him Desmond, you can do this_.' With his mental coaching complete he reached out and pushed his fingers along the expanse of the Syrian's shoulder blades.

He was soon sliding them over the other's shoulders and down to the small of his back, getting the oil along every expanse he would be touching. Altaïr had tensed when he was touched but Desmond's confidence with his movements soon had him back to a somewhat relaxed state. Desmond mostly just toyed with his hands, he grabbed Altaïr's shoulders and began to squeeze and rub them leisurely. As the other gave no complaint, Desmond continued this out to the edge of his shoulders and followed it out and over on to Altaïr's back.

Fingers wrapped along his ribs, Desmond massaged his thumbs into the rest of Altaïr's back and worked his way down until he was all but holding the man by the waist. Letting go, Desmond put both hands on the small of his back and gently drug the heel of both palms up the expanse of the legendary assassin's back. "Any problem areas?" Desmond asked he didn't know if he could actually do anything for those but he could try.

Altaïr certainly had melted onto the grass so far.

"Mm, left side…" Desmond smiled, that had been informing.

He focused on the left side, taking direction now as Altaïr kept saying, "Lower- lower- more right- _there_…"

Once he had found where Altaïr wanted attended he could feel why. It really felt bunched, all hard, possibly swelling going on. "Anything happen here?" he asked and he prodded at it with several finger tips. Altaïr shifted uncomfortably,"Yeah, you." Desmond blinked, bewildered. '_What did I do_?' He hadn't been near Altaïr in several days so how? Then he noticed this would be around the area that would have hit the odds and ends sticking from the wall he had pushed Altaïr into. "…M'bad."

Altaïr simply grunted in response and shifted again, "Stop that." He growled. Desmond stopped his pressing at once, "Something else?" The other let out a hum of agreement. Thinking of what he could do, Desmond idly began to drum his fingers along the other's back. He noticed the way Altaïr lifted up toward it so he continued. After a small bit, Desmond leaned away and opened the flask again. He covered one hand this time only and began to rub. Going up one side then back down before finding the spots that made Altaïr arch pleasurably like a cat.

Desmond easily fell into a routine in his motions and adjusted anytime the other man wriggled from his touch. It was at some point a soft whistling sound escaped Altaïr and Desmond leaned down to check his face. '_Wow, he fell asleep._' Smiling, Desmond sat back up again and returned to casually stroking the other.

Now that he wasn't focused solely on Altaïr, the foreign assassin noticed the jealous looks he was getting from some of the women. The sun was gone from the sky and the shadows made the looks that much sharper. Stopping and leaning on a knee, Desmond gazed down at the sleeping man next to him. '_Haha, never thought the great Altaïr could look so… cute._' Having not the heart to wake the slumbering man, Desmond flopped back on to his back and laid his head in the cradle of his arms. He wasn't overly tired but his back was aching now from leaning over the Syrian for a few hours.

'_Man, what's with all these crazy thoughts? Too bad Lucy isn't here. I could use a good slap_.' He thought with a small smile, feeling a bit home sick for the people he spent daily life with now'a days.

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><p>I have no skill in the means of massaging so if you read this and know a thing or two about that subject, ignore my fiction filled disrciption of it o ,o;<p>

Falling all over Alty and giving him a back rub all in one chapter? Am I moving too fast here? I feel like the quick succession of events in this chapter seem rushed after all the blah I've just written. o. O

Whatever- thanks for viewing! c:


	8. The Look

Man, it's been forever. Getting to continue this story is so exciting so if my previous readers are still around they'll be excited along with the recent readers. Enjoy guys!

Thank you life for UbiSoft! ^^

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><p>The afternoon of leisure seemed something of a dream in the week that passed there after. Everything continued as it had normally and Desmond believed he really was settling into the swing of his current confusing predicament. The three novices he was set to train were taking to him now and really soaking in the competent instructions Desmond was dealing out.<p>

This was all wonderful and everything but as each day passed, Desmond was wondering at least once a day if he was ever escaping this cycle?

Would this last forever?

This wasn't his time and he didn't belong here. A machine was keeping him here and he still had no idea why.

The only thing of note Desmond could say he was really enjoying was he had noticed the looks Altaïr would sneak him when- and if- they happened by each other. Nothing was ever said but the look... it spoke of _interest_. Each time it happened Desmond always slowed his pace and wondered just what kind of interest his elder was giving him. It was shortly followed by a mental slap to refocus him on his task.

One day though, that look blossomed toward more.

Strapping on the gauntlet and hidden blade for the day, Desmond patted himself down and double checked he had everything for the day. He was in the sparse room he had to call his own. It was time to start yet another day, not knowing if things would change or if the routine would continue. Content that he was properly outfitted, the young assassin exited the room. The hall was empty(Desmond's late to rise nature ensuring this) and quiet until he rounded a corner that joined the hall with a stairwell. A soft shuffle brought Desmond's gaze from the floor as he realized someone was on the upper stair and he had nearly blocked their path going down. "Oh, uhh..." he had been about to apologize when he noticed said man was indeed Altaïr.

The Syrian seemed just as lost for words as Desmond, but there it was again, the stare.

Desmond couldn't break from it. It was obvious his ancestor was straining to say something but he was lacking any movement to bring it out. Tension strained with each silent second that flitted by and Desmond, honest to god, thought he saw something unusual happen in the other man's almost honey colored eyes. They seemed to lighten for a moment, brightening with a soft yellow light pattern akin to the light effect reflected from water.

It was surreal.

In that moment Altaïr had blinked and like that, it was gone. He moved then, stepping down onto the hallway's platform step. This determined yet intimate look in his eyes, Altaïr leaned in on Desmond, their gazes still locked. In the strange moment Desmond didn't realize until it was upon him but their lip had suddenly become locked as well.

A breath he hadn't known he'd been holding was released in a bit of surprise as he made to back up. Altaïr seemed to be a step ahead of him and grabbed a fist-full of the cloth around Desmond's neck to keep him in place. Altaïr had continued the stare but Desmond had faltered and his eyes sealed shut as a heat spread along him. The meeting of lips was hardly something to get excited over but Desmond's mind was in the gutter in .5 of a millisecond. First, that's all it was but then he felt the white robed man press just that much more and Desmond shivered. It was all Desmond had needed, he pressed back and unsealed his lips before he had fully noticed as he sank into the lovely warm feelings fluttering up in his body.

The kiss lasted for an achingly long time and surprisingly enough Altaïr was the one to come up for air first.

He gulped down some air in a moment of panting and stepped back from the Italian. Unlike before now he would not meet Ezio's questioning gaze.

"Wuh-?" Desmond tried to grasp at the words he wanted to speak but now his mouth had chosen to fail him. Altaïr, seeming unfazed by his own actions wasn't so crippled,"You wanted me to." he said mysteriously. Like the encounter never happened he then continued down the steps, not looking back. Desmond gaped after the man, well _yes_ he _had_ wanted that kiss he realized but... what had just happened? Confusion distracted him so much he said nothing after the retreating assassin and groaned a bit as he leaned back against a wall. "Thanks alot for the boner..." he mumbled, looking down at his little tent.

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><p>The intimate moment never came up the entire day as it passed by leaving Desmond even more confused. As the sun arced in the sky and began it's decent he told himself he was going to grab a moment with Altaïr to get his whatthehell? in. Evening training wrapped up again for the day and Desmond patted Mahfuz on the shoulder as they all walked off to their own respective places. Desmond climbed the steps into the library, stopping on the stoop to the garden and looked back to see if the master was at his usual area of business. He could see one person up there from his position but it wasn't Altaïr, frowning he turned to the guards on duty next to him.<p>

"Any chance of catching Master Altaïr anytime soon?" one shrugged but the other replied,"Not sure, he left for the village a couple hours ago." Desmond glanced back again, down the stairs this time. "Hmm... thanks." with that he headed off for the evening meal.

Once he had rested enough and grabbed a bite to eat Desmond set himself out to find the grandmaster once more. Hiking down the hill into the village he meshed into the crowds and drifted about, wondering if he would be lucky enough to simply run into the man he was looking for. It all turned over rather uneventfully and when the light of the sunken sun began to fade Desmond gave up his search and began his way back. Then he catch sight of a white hood among the crowd '_Found_ _him_?' while that thought had been the same one for 2 other hooded men neither of them had been Altaïr but Desmond chased this one down just to check. Upon reaching the man's side Desmond could feel just by the other's stride this one was Altaïr.

"Master?" Desmond's call brought him to the assassin's attention and he glance over from under his hood in acknowledgement. "This... this morning... what... what was that all about?" Desmond stammered. Altaïr continued their path up toward the fortress,"You _wanted me_ to." Again, the same answer.

Ezio's brows furrowed,"Er... I guess, yeah but, still... _why_?" this got another glance from Altaïr but the man muttered,"It'll not happen again then..." Desmond nearly stopped,"Hey! Whoa, whoa, _whoa_, I didn't mean it like that! I just... you seemed... I didn't think you were cool with that?" apparently Altaïr found Desmond's stammering amusing as his scarred lips curled with a smile. "Until I saw what you did there- I never fathomed the thought." he admitted, but there was also the fact it was one hell of a sin in this time period.

Desmond blushed and went quiet as they crested the hill and entered the gate into the training courtyard. Having the same common path led them both up the hill into the library and then up the stairs. Altaïr stopped on the stoop Desmond had earlier and looked at the meeker male,"Would you come back down in a few hours?" Desmond straightened in surprised, "Uhm... yeah, of course." with that said Altaïr turned away and climbed the stairs to his 'office' and in turn left Desmond to go on back to his business.

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><p>Restless at the prospect of what Altaïr wanted left Desmond pacing in his room over enjoying some down time.<p>

Sometimes he thought it was something normal like a simple talk, maybe Altaïr was going to send him out there into the field again, but other times his mind went south and couldn't help but think the other man wanted to start another make out session. On one such though Desmond came to a standstill in the center of the rectangular room. His bottom lip pinned between is teeth as he remembered the warmth with which Altaïr had delivered that first kiss lingering strongly in his mind.

Dismissing the topic, his gaze drifted to the bed and he realized he was feeling the effects of being out all day. Could he manage a small nap? It would certainly keep his mind off of Altaïr for those 'few hours' he had mentioned. Stripping a few articles of clothing, Desmond lay down on the pallet he called a bed for now and reclined into the cradle of his crossed arms. Even though he had laid down to which his body was ever grateful, Desmond could still feel very awake mentally and it seemed a lost attempt to grab sleep.


	9. Plus one Apple

Whoot whoot, lemon ahead modest people get off this train wreck now! And with that said, enjoy.

Thank you life for UbiSoft! ^^

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><p>Starting awake from one of those half asleep jerks, Desmond groggily realized he had somewhat managed a nap. He was still in that reclined positon and he noted he was lacking much feeling in his fingers as he sat up and off his arms. His shoulders were achy but he could deal. Looking over at the stand that held a candle and a 24-hour hourglass he studied it with blant disinterest.<p>

'_Why can't these people have easy to read timepieces?_' He mentally grumbled having little to no idea what time it was.

His hunch would put the time around 9 or 10pm, only an hour and a half since he had split from Altaïr. This was about the time the fortress wrapped up for the night and everyone settled into uneventful guard duty and sleep.

Tossing the covers off, Desmond picked himself off the floor and gave a good stretch until he felt a nice pop in one of his shoulders. The ache was quelled a tad but it would last for a while yet.

Throwing his shoes back on, Desmond left the room and headed down the hallway. After this morning he kept his eyes on the entire picture and thankfully didn't run into someone else on the stairs. His trek down to the library was brisk and to the point, as he landed on the landing splitting the library he glanced up expectantly at the area Altaïr was host to most hours of the day.

"Oh, hey, Federico?" Desmond didn't respond for a moment before he realized that was his cover. He turned to the guard who had been silent last time he was around and the man offered a folded page.

Questioning what it could be about, he took it and unfolded it.

_I have retired to my room for the evening. _

_Meet me there._

There wasn't any signature but Desmond knew who it was from. Below the scrawled words was an almost artful sketch of a map from his level to the grandmaster's chamber on the second top floor. Staring at the page, Desmond had to read it a second time before he believed he had just been summoned to the one place Altaïr had made sure to keep him away from. Looking a little dumbfounded as he walked off he doubled back and wandered back upstairs to his respected hallway before looking at the map again. It seemed mostly straight forward, go up the stairs two flights, follow a hallway to another small stairwell and go up to a level with a few rooms and his destination would be on the right.

Folding the paper up, he tucked it away under his sash and made his way upstairs.

He swore he followed the map just as it looked but when he got up the two flights and down the hall the door he assumed had led to more stairs brought him into a large room he could only assume was used for stratagem. He glanced around then backed out of the room, he pulled the page out again and unfolded it. Brows furrowed, he looked intently at this 'map' but this was the basic idea of the right spot.

He looked back into the room, then back at the room.

The stairs on the drawing were on the left side of the circle and he realized there was a door on the left side of the room. '_Crafty_.' Desmond smiled and wandered over to the door and tugged it open. A set of stairs led up and he was grateful he hadn't ended in some broom closet.

He didn't have much of a problem after that and as he stopped at the door the map brought him to, the curious anxiety came flooding back. Where was this going? He knocked on the door and waited. It was several anxious heartbeats later but the door finally opened and Altaïr, hood down, opened it. Their gazes locked for an achingly long moment until Altaïr stepped back and offered Ezio passage into the room. Striding into the room, Desmond flicked over into sight-seeing mode and he openly stared around the room. There wasn't anything particularly great about the room, it was well furnished compared to the simple living quarters Desmond was occupying.

"Federico?" the questioning tone brought Desmond back to why he was here.

He rounded to face Altaïr, realizing he was way over on the far side of the room. Altaïr stood expectantly next to a desk up against the wall only feet from the door. Giving a nervous chuckle, he quickly crossed the room to the area of attention and found several charts and papers spread out over the desk. One of which had a finely drawn Apple of Eden depicted on it. Desmond's eyes lingered on it,"You know exactly what it looks like..." Altaïr's words started Desmond from his thoughts and he quickly glanced up to the honey eyes scrutinizing him.

"Yes... We, we have something of the like where I come from." Altaïr arched a brow, while in his possession, the Apple had shown him many things but to think there was another piece of Eden at the ready.

Desmond looked away again, lips drawn into a grim line as the lies continued to stack. He really just wanted to be honest here.

Altaïr, never one to miss a beat, took the slight grimace as sign to delve deeper. "What are you not telling me?" his voice was firm and serious. Desmond, completely done with this facade, met his ancestor's eyes once more. "Alot. My mission's required so many secrets..." he swallowed just at the hard look Altaïr was giving him. "But if I'm gonna work with you, I have got to get this straight, my name_ is not_ Federico." Just having said that made Desmond feel worlds better.

Altaïr was giving him that same hard look but there was an air of relief too,"Then... what _is _your name?" Desmond flushed a bit and looked away. "Desmond." A small silence passed between them before the Syrian spoke once more. "Finding the apple, is it really what you're after? Are you even helping us?" the accusing tone snapped Desmond back to attention,"Wha-? Yeah, I'm really here to help get it back. Anyway, it's not like I could use somethin' that big league." Altaïr gave him a mildly confused face for his strange wording but assumed it for true if "Desmond" was really speaking the truth.

Now that he had relieved some of the weight Desmond couldn't help a relived shoulder slump and Altaïr offered a light smile of thanks. Just as it seemed Altaïr was going to go in for another question that same lightening effect flashed in his eyes and he set his jaw as the same determined look settled onto his face. Placing a hand on Desmond's shoulder, he leaned in but Desmond had learned the warning signs now and stepped back. "Whoa, you're doing that thing again." he muttered nervously.

Altaïr gave him an almost evil smirk,"And you are doing _that thing_ again." He advanced on the retreating assassin. Desmond matched step for step Altaïr's advance in a back peddle motion, "Err... do we really have to-Shit." Desmond had found, too late, that the edge of the bed was sneaking up on him and now it was digging into the back of his knees.

Altaïr had known just what was going to happen and he couldn't help a small chuckle at Desmond's own mild misfortune. He took another fist-full of Ezio's collar and brought their faces close. "You will forever be a mystery to me when this is _always_ your idea." Then he drug the confused assassin into another kiss. Desmond, feeling a little violated struggled a bit, hands planted on the other man's shoulders to remove him.

The kiss lessened his shoves and when he let out to desire he completely gave up the idea of pushing Altaïr away. The kiss was warm and even a bit languid but when Desmond decided he did indeed like this situation it turned into an almost sloppy one.

The surreal feeling of falling brought Desmond out of his haze and he was shocked back into the now when his back hit the plush bed. This was immediately followed by Altaïr's weight pressing down on one of his shoulders and he realized he was the one that had dropped them down. Altaïr gazed down on him, breath rasping from his open lips as he more or less leered at the clothed form under him. He took it upon himself to slice some of that clothing off, hidden blade springing forward as he slit the hood open along with the shoulder strap keeping Ezio's tunic on his left shoulder.

Heart beating in his ears, Desmond swallowed thickly, he could feel the blade flying ever so close to his skin and even if it was fully extended having it used on him brought an element of fear into play.

"Ah-h-haha, you aren't gonna-?" Desmond flinched as his question was answered with the bite of pain as the tip of his ancestor's hidden blade drew a line down Ezio's center. With just about all his clothing above the sash he wore dangling off his form, Desmond guessed Altaïr was pleased as he drew him into another heady kiss. Desmond reached up then with one arm and cupped the back of Altaïr's neck. It was a bit of a surprise but he could feel Altaïr fighting a smile as they molded lips. When Altaïr pulled out of the kiss, Desmond let him go and he went straight to the bleeding line between Ezio's lovely sculpted pecs.

"Mhn."

Biting his lip, Desmond reached for Altaïr's sash and worked to peel it off the man while Altaïr in turn slid the open shirt and tunic down his arms and off his chest.

As the clothes came off, things grew slightly more sadistic and Desmond grunted as another slash was drawn on his hip. Like the others he had made, Altaïr brought his lips to it and kissed it before drawing his tongue along the crimson skin. Reclining back on his elbows, Desmond tipped his head back as he panted softly and he realized with a slight twitch he had actually thought of a fantasy like this.

Guilty pleasure.

Altaïr had been a bit of an inspiration when he had first gotten into the swing of the animus back at Abstergo. In his short laps of attention Altaïr had dragged him into a vulnerable position and by the looks of it he was about to dive in head first.

Alarm shot through Desmond making him go ridged,"Wait!" the quick yell did get the elder man to stop and that was all Desmond needed to get his feet on the bed and scuttle backward up to the wall. "You can't just- you have to- augh, give me your hand!" An amused smile lit Altaïr's face as he dropped down and padded forward on his hands and knees.

It seemed like a personal achievement to get Desmond to trip over his own words and once he was back into an intimate proximity Altaïr cocked his head but sat down and offered his right hand. Desmond sighed out a happy breath and took hold of Altaïr's hand with both of his,"This doesn't work the same as with the ladies..." he mumbled, steeling himself for what he was about to do.

Altaïr's eyes trained on his fingers as Desmond reached out with his tongue and stroked one. The stroke was followed by another and another before he sucked the man's index finger into his mouth and continued to massage and moisten it. The full time he did this and added a second finger into the mix, he watched Altaïr's face and the expression the other man displayed was something of spine tingling carnal hunger. When he got to a third finger Altaïr looked ready to rip his hand away but he controlled himself long enough for Desmond to remove his mouth with a noisy pop. "Start with these, tiger." the modern assassin murmured, feeling breathless.

Altaïr stared at his hand for a moment when Desmond let go then his raked his gaze down the body splayed out before him. with the comfort of knowing Desmond could no longer back peddle away from him, he wrapped his four fingered hand around Ezio's knee and tilted it outward. Caressing the rounded edge of the Italian's ass, his fingers traced between the other man's buttocks and glided up to the hole and delved in with a finger. Desmond shivered as he was touched and then gasped when Altaïr pushed up into his soft insides.

Gripping the sheets tightly, Desmond did his very best to keep unclenched as another finger was dunked in with the first. Altaïr stared adamantly at Ezio's strained face as he coaxed his other finger into the quivering hole he was being made to painstakingly stretch.

To say he enjoyed the Italian's flickering expression would be an understatement.

Something drove Altaïr to swish his fingers in deeper and by the arch, wriggle and whine he got he assumed he had found what he had wanted to get out of Desmond. Removing his fingers, Altaïr grabbed the other knee and tilted it outward as well as he slide up between the lean thighs of his counterpart.

Desmond panted softly as Altaïr took a place directly over him and even went as far as to wrap his legs around the Syrian's sturdy hips. Locked together like that, not even an inch seperating them, Desmond gazed up at the Syrian's face hovering over him. For a heart beat everything was bliss to him as their breaths minged in the tight space between them.

Then Altaïr moved and Desmond found himself cringing as a thick rod Altaïr was proud to call a penis cut through his borrowed orifice. Eyes tightly shut and shoulders tensed, the modern assassin did everything in the span of his will power to noticeably relax against the intruding appendage. "Nhuugh..." like that was some kind of signal, Altaïr pulled out and shifted back in with a languid thrust. Clenching Ezio's teeth, Desmond found that the movement through him was _not_ helping him to properly relax.

As he said nothing but the softest of labored breathing, Altaïr took this as a sign he wasn't in the wrong and increased his pace.

It was torture yet enjoyable and Desmond could describe it no better, he clutched Altaïr's shoulders with each ramp up in momentum. At one point he moved a hand to the nape of his partner's neck and drug him down into a heady kiss finding it a great place to hide possibly the most sluttiest moan he had made yet. Altaïr sopped every touch up and gave nothing less then twice as much back.

It was like fire, the intensity they seemed to have for each other in that moment. Blinding, to say the least. And just like that Desmond hit some kind of high he couldn't say he would ever reach by masturbation alone.

Orgasm rushed over his body sending tingles flooding everywhere and for a few short breaths everything was gone. Just him and Altaïr... and Ezio. The thought alone made Desmond wrinkle his brow, creepy, only thing he could say about it.

This was so strange.

Peak hit and crested, Desmond came back to the motions around and in him and shivered as a spike of pleasure stiffened his member that lay gratefully against his tan abdomen.

"Ha." Altaïr's breath caught before he let much of a sound out as he caught up to Desmond.

Muscles tensing in every part of that lean body, the modern assassin shivered, feeling as a transfer of semen from one body to another occurred. They both just laid there for a good moment, breathing labored as they enjoyed the post-sex moment. Desmond caught Altaïr's eye and couldn't help a smile as it crept onto his face. Altaïr, rather stoic, stared down on the Italian before finally speaking,"Do not tell Maria."

_Oh yeah._

Her.

Well, if Desmond hadn't felt awkward before he certainly did now. "Not gonna happen." he shot back. He'd rather not wanted to be reminded he was screwing around with a married father figure that would at some point play a part in his conception.

Feeling freed of whatever vice that had brought them together, the Syrian pulled his body free of his partner's and rolled over to lay beside him.

They simply stared at the ceiling then, no longer looking at each other. Desmond's face felt red hot the more he thought about what just went down but Altaïr didn't look in the slightest as if he regretted a moment.

When everything seemed to have cooled down Desmond made the executive decision to roll over and lay his head against the broad surface of Altaïr's chest. There was a moment where Altaïr must have looked down at him but then an arm moved and draped around his shoulders. They laid there like that and said nothing else.

It was by surprise that Desmond found himself nodding off. Catching this, Altaïr looked down on the sleeping form cuddled against him. It all felt so surreal, he could make no connection as to why he had brought himself to fucking the long haired male in his bed.

It hadn't been love, he felt hardly anything but a friend toward this lying stranger. Still he had done it and while it was a puzzle he doubt he would solve he closed his eyes and decided then that he needed some time away from this place, maybe with his wife...

The morning brought with it the sun and something very, very strange. Altaïr's eyes fluttered open as his senses first pegged that no one was lying in the bed with him. Unwilling to adjust to the sunlight spilling into the room, he grouped around in the bed but no turned back covers gave hints to a missing person, his hand did come across something lying against his side though. Round and sphere shaped, Altaïr arched a brow and grabbed it.

It felt hard, with lines etched into it in a familiar pattern. This got the Syrian to open his eyes and as he pulled the object from under the covers he couldn't believe he was holding the Apple of Eden.

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><p>Desmond started in his chair, consciousness suddenly returning to him and he opened his eyes to find the half visor of Baby hovering over him. '<em>Holy shit I'm back<em>!' He sat up and unplugged, eyes instantly going to his surroundings. The edge of worry he held lessened as he took in the sights of the warehouse and Shaun's back who was fixated on his little station. Swiveling to where Lucy usually sat he found both the girls at Lucy's desk and they were both staring at him. Lucy gawking open mouthed while Rebecca had on this unreadable expression. Then the dark haired woman grew a smile, "Whoa Desmond. Didn't know you swung _that way._"

At her words, Desmond paled. Swallowing thickly he realized- they had been watching. No wonder Shaun was too absorbed in his own thing.

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><p>DONE. -slaps pen down- And yes I did just write an entire fanfiction JUST to write that last ending scene with Rebecca. x) Ah, it feels good to finally finish this damn thing. Jeez it's been a good minute since last I updated but, uhh, if those that left me such lovely reviews finish this story... heart you guys. :)<p> 


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